Times wus hard. Real hard.
When I had ta sell Molley, I made sure and promised her I’d take care a tha kids.
‘Steve’, she said, ‘Steve’, tears collectin’ in her eyes as some mother gunned a muscle car, readin’ to take her away.
‘Take care a little Suzie and Steve Jr. You’ll watch em close now for me won’t ya?’
I could hardly talk for the lump in my throat.
‘I sure will honey,’ I said, promising to do my best by our fine pair a young-uns.

Well, times they do get harder. A man can get sick, soul sick, so no doctor ‘ill cure em. Sick a workin, and sick a tha sight a himself in the mirror. Shit I did my best, but like I say, pretty soon it got hard and I had to start thinkin’ a possibilities.
Time come I’d done all a man could do to keep it together, and it just wasn’t near good enough. So I had to consider the unthinkable. I had to prepare myself ta sell Steve Jr. Exceptin’ this time, my old pal Billy-Ray, whose been a good old boy through all recent troubles and all my troubles past, he says..

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